


To Piss Off The Dumb Few

by wookieefucker



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wookieefucker/pseuds/wookieefucker
Summary: Not quite middle-aged, and firmly set in his ways of devious living, Stan Pines is a grifter. He hits up a new town, pulls a new con, and splits when the profit stops flowing. This latest town is proving to be a little bit different. What is it about Rick Sanchez that seems to pull his walls down and draw him in?





	1. Chapter 1

Heists aren’t like the things that you see in movies and on television. They’re not glamorous affairs with perfectly synchronized sexy men - with the shoulder to waist ratios of a Dorito - hoisting tiny women in cat suits around a mass of lasers and trip wires. Most of the time, heists are a couple of drunk morons really jonesing for another fix, and in need of some fast cash. Or, at least something to sell for some fast cash.

At first, a gig like this seems like no big deal. One guy meets another at the local gay bar in this tiny town that he’s just passing through. He always meets a guy. He’s always just passing through. The thing about fucking men is that there aren’t those emotional tears and goodbye scenes when he eventually gets chased out of town. He tells himself that that’s always a good thing. Emotion really fucked him over, back in the day.

Anyway, he met a guy. He was thin, and had this shocking blue hair that you’d think would be the first thing that he noticed, but it actually wasn’t. The first thing he noticed was this wild look in his eyes, a look that was just begging someone to come take him on an adventure. He looked around, and was astonished that no one had taken this man up on the unspoken offer yet. He sauntered up to the bar right next to the stranger, swollen with all of the swagger that his cons so far had imbued him with, and ordered a bottle of corona. He gave the guy beside him a fairly obvious once over, and grinned as the guy looked back.

Stan breathed in deeply as his drink was handed over to him, and he pushed the lime in with his thumb, taking a drink before the fizz could overflow the neck of the bottle. He turned around and leaned his lower back against the bar, and took another swig from the drink he’d ordered. An instrumental song with a rough beat began playing out of the jukebox, and Stan looked out at the bar, taking the whole scene in, before returning his attention to the man sitting next to him.

The guy was looking at Stan with obvious amusement, clearly waiting for Stan to make a move before offering anything up himself. Stan took another drink, feeling the burn of the corona and the tartness of the lime filling his mouth and washing over the tastes of another day on the road. He grinned widely and nodded once.

“I’m Stan,” he said, and shifted his weight to his right foot, rolling his left up behind him slightly. He had so many aliases, but in a new town with a fresh start? Sometimes it was nice to have the latest conquest moaning out his real name at the end of a successful night.

The man grinned at him, and took a long gulp from his glass, finishing it off. He waved at the bartender for another, and while it was on its way he gave Stan a good long once over. Stan smiled into his drink and took another swig. And so, the dance began. The double of whiskey came, and the guy slammed back half of it, burped loudly, wiped his hand across his mouth, and stood up.

“I’m Rick,” he said, and stepped out towards the jukebox. Stan looked at him in confusion, and Rick walked backwards a step. “Coming to dance?” Stan grinned and set his beer down with a look at the bartender, who nodded. The bar wasn’t too busy, and at places like these guys watched out for each other. He’d watch their drinks. Stan stepped out after Rick, who was already grinding to the music by himself, completely at ease with all of the looks that he was receiving.

Stan stepped in behind him, hands settling on Rick’s slim hips as they danced to the slick, bass heavy song. Their bodies were grinding together, and the atmosphere grew heavier as time passed. Rick lost himself in dancing, and Stan lost himself in Rick. He was smooth and magnetic, but he didn’t bother hiding his rough edges even from the beginning.

After a few song changes, Rick decided that he wasn’t feeling the music anymore, and returned to the bar to finish the rest of his drink. By the time that Stan made it back, Rick had finished his beer as well, and was picking his jacket up from the barstool and slinging it over one shoulder. Stan tossed a wad of singles on the bar top, and Rick threw his other arm over Stan’s shoulder.

“Y-you got a, a place we can go?” He asked, and Stan wrapped his arm around Rick’s waist.

“I’ve got a car,” he said, and then, giddy still from the rush of a good con turned great, and money burning a hole in his pocket, he added, “We could get a room.” Rick looked at him, eyes half lidded, and smiled, all teeth and seduction.

“S- That sounds like a plan, Stan,” he replied, laughing at his own rhyme. Stan laughed with him, and they made their way to Stan’s car, hands all over each other, and stumbling.

They got to the car and Stan pushed Rick up against it, coming in close and half-stepping so that their legs intertwined. He pressed forward with his hips and leaned in, looking up slightly. Rick leaned forward, closing the gap, and kissed Stan. Stan’s hands held his pinned to the side of the car, and he pulled away with a laugh.

“Not out here,” he said, and stepped back a bit, still pinning Rick’s hands. “Motel.” Rick nodded, eyes half-lidded, and liked his lips. Stan let go, and stumbled around to the driver’s side of his car, getting in and fumbling for the ignition. He was no-where near drunk on alcohol, but Rick was like ambrosia. Stan had gotten used to quick, mindless fucks as he wandered town to town. This one was already shaping into something different.

Stan had noticed it before. Rick had this magnetism to him. It seemed to draw people in, and make them want to be a part of whatever wild adventure he was already swept up in.

He turned the key, and the car rumbled to life with a satisfying growl. Rick hummed in appreciation, and Stan was off. They cruised through the quiet night of this shitty one-horse town, and headed to the motel. It was a mom and pop looking place, and it looked more run down than the bar that they’d been in, if that were possible.

The college-aged townie at the check-in counter didn’t look twice at the two of them slobbering all over each other in the minimal lobby; it was basically a revamped storage closet with a desk shoved in the corner. Stan handed over a roll of cash and signed for the room as Simon Hickory. He had barely taken the key from the bored looking youth and Rick had already tugged him out of the laughably labelled lobby, and down to room 6, on the end of the lineup.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan has a history of making bad choices. He probably makes another one. Also there is farting.

When Stan woke up, his first instinct was to check that none of his things had been stolen. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, before blinking several times. Light was threading in through the old, but well-kept blinds, and as Stan squinted at the alarm clock across the bed on the night stand, Rick groaned and rolled over. Stan froze, not wanting to wake him up and deal with the morning after. Eventually Rick settled again, and Stan relaxed slightly. Then Rick let out a massive fart and began laughing.

“S-sorry,” he snorted out, “I was trying to, to avoid that awkward morning after shit, too, but you were so serious about it.”

Stan chuckled, and was surprised to find that it wasn’t forced. Then the stench hit him and he stood up and bolted to the other side of the room. Rick laughed so hard that he fell out of the bed and thumped to the floor. Stan started laughing after that.

 

“So, what makes a guy like you stick around a town like this?” Stan asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

After cleaning up and showering, which ended with shower sex that re-hashed everything about how explosive the night before had been, and then cleaning up again, Rick and Stan had left the motel. After Stan turned in the keys, he had come outside to see Rick leaning against the light post by the corner, smoking a cigarette, and something inside him led to a split-second decision that he still couldn’t explain.

He had gotten in his car and pulled up next to him, not saying a word. Rick had climbed in, his long legs tangled up on the dash, and Stan had cruised around until he had found a decent looking diner that served breakfast.

“Just waiting for the- the next big inspiration to come along,” he replied, tipping his flask into the coffee almost before the waitress had set it on the table. Stan shot her a sharp grin, and really laid on the charm, as if to say ‘what can you do?’ Her demeanor softened, and she smiled and shrugged, miming zipping her lips as she took their orders back to the short-order cook.

“Wh-what about you?” Rick asked, looking honestly interested as he stirred his coffee with one finger, before quickly draining a third of it. He looked intently at Stan, who got the feeling that Rick didn’t find too many people interesting. Stan’s first instinct was to lie, but like the previous night in the bar, he found himself telling the truth, or something resembling it.

“Just wandering,” he said with a charming smile. At Rick’s silence and steady gaze, he continued. “I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen, and I’ve been in and out of most places around the country.” Stan paused, taking a sip of coffee. “Mostly I scam people for money,” he added nonchalantly.

“Nice,” Rick replied, laughing and lighting a cigarette. Stan slid the ashtray closer to him, and Rick wordlessly held the pack out to him. Stan delayed just a moment too long in responding, and Rick wiggled the box at him. Stan took one, and shrugged. He hadn’t really smoked since he first left Jersey, but it wasn’t like he was completely averse to the idea.

Breakfast came, and both men ate quickly. It was a no-nonsense affair. They both ate like they didn’t know when their next meals would be, and they sized each other up while they were at it. When they left, Stan debated dining and dashing, but he looked at the over-worked waitress who had kept the coffee coming and hadn’t thrown them out even when she had seen Rick pour his booze into his cup repeatedly. He threw $20 on the table and told her to keep the change as he followed Rick outside.

Stan shivered as the wind picked up, and shrugged his jacket on over his broad shoulders. Rick followed him back to his car, and instead of being annoyed, Stan found himself quietly pleased. He climbed in and turned the key in the ignition, letting the low rumble wash over him, before glancing in the rearview and throwing it in reverse. He straightened out and sped out of the lot, carefully not looking over at Rick.

“I’m uh, headed on out of here,” Stan confessed. “Not much here for me to turn over, and I’d like there to be one place I haven’t been chucked out of,” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I can take you with me if you want to get out of here, or I can drop you somewhere on my way out of town.”

Rick shrugged, slumping back in the seat and tossing a hand lazily up to shield his eyes from the sun that was peeking through the clouds. They drove in silence for a few blocks, before he sat up abruptly.

“Yeah, o-okay, wh-what the hell,” he said, mostly to himself.

“What?” Stan looked at him briefly, before turning his eyes to the road again.

“Why the fuck not? I’ll come with you,” Rick told him, and then promptly threw up out the open window, and then curled into a ball on the passenger side of the large bench seat, and fell asleep. Stan began to think that even good sex and great chemistry wasn’t worth this.


End file.
